


Up With The Birds

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Adventure, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Coming of Age, Fluff and Angst, Harry-centric, Light Angst, London, Love, M/M, Mild Smut, Mystery, Non-Chronological, Original names (you'll see what I mean), Romance, Sad and Happy, Tokyo (City), Travel, Unrequited Love, World Travel, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:09:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Hiatus)</p><p>Harry wasn't the type to do what he had just done, and yet, he didn't regret a moment of it.</p><p>A trip to Tokyo and a little too many of Niall's self entitled 'authentic blue beer' gets Harry Styles, the budding writing and photographer into some hot water. After a blurred night he awakes in the bed of a stranger, met with eyes bluer that that of the sky above the clouds, and the smell of a  chain-smoker and a flower garden. There seems to be a lot more to this man than meets the eye, as he requests to take Harry on an adventure around the city on his last day in Japan. Most people are lucky to get breakfast after sleeping with a stranger. Harry on the other hand gets himself an adventure tour guide who errs on the side of the mysterious. He won't tell Harry anything about his personal life, no name, no life, no history. Then again Harry has is own secrets. After all what really did happen in Paris?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1 Chapter 1 Tokyo La Nuit

**Author's Note:**

> The sky is blue dream that lie 'till it's true  
> ***  
> Might have to go  
> Where they don't know my name  
> Float all over the world  
> Just to see her again  
> And I won't show or feel any pain  
> Even though all my armour might rust in the rain  
> ***  
> A simple plot  
> But I know one day  
> Good things are coming our way

Is it physically possible to get punch drunk on a kiss? Right now Harry felt as if he was seeing stars. His head was pounding as if he had been knocked around with a sledgehammer. He blamed the alcohol, made and sold in a foreign tongue. It was next to impossible to count drinks or remain sensible. 

It took Harry longer than it should have for him to regain lucidity. The first thing he felt was the slightly too firm bed beneath him, followed by the rise and fall of someone else’s chest and the smell of cigarettes, which made his nose recoil in disgust. 

“Mornin’ love, have a bit of a rough night?” A voice chuckled from beside him. Harry had to wait for his eyes to shift into focus. He could feel the chuckle roll through the boy beside him. Where their shoulders were just touching he could feel them quivering, with the laugh.

The man before him looked as if he were in his early twenties. His face bore marks of a slightly scruffy five o’clock shadow, while his eyes looked almost icy to Harry. They hung out of focus, gazing towards the gap in the curtains where the slither of a tall building could be viewed. In one hand was a lighter, which the man seemed to be fiddling with almost constantly, opening and shutting the lid and every now and again sending out a few sparks, before snuffing them out. In the other hand was a cigarette. Harry didn’t hate many things but the smell of cigarette smoke was one of them. He wondered how drunk he had been to get with the man. He wondered if when he kissed he tasted like cigarettes. He didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to see. Drunk Harry and sober Harry had different taste in men. 

“You trying to piece together last night Curly?” 

The man asked as he screwed up the remains of his cigarette into an ashtray located beside the bed. He leaned back on the heels of his hands to get a better look at Harry. For a moment he was too shy to speak. Harry sat there looking around for anything he could claim as his own. He found his phone, which let him know it was almost afternoon. He was shocked, but not surprised. 

“Would you care for me to elaborate?” The other man quirked up his brow and then Harry managed to find his voice.

“Yes please.” 

His morning voice sounded slightly scratchy, coming out in a deeper tone than usual. Harry looked down at his phone, finding a voice recording app and sat up to look at the boy moving slightly closer. The other man’s eyebrows shot up. 

“This feels like an investigation, why the fuck do you need that?” 

“It’s a thing I do.” Harry knew he sounded slightly mental just leaving the statement at that, and so he went on to elaborate. 

“I’m a writer- you see. Or at least that’s what I want to be. I’m still at uni but I’m sorting it out, you know? When I meet interesting people then I normally record it somehow… for material- kind of.” 

This time the boy scoffed and moved slightly closer to Harry. He smelled like a chain-smoker and a flower garden had somehow melded together, both scents were equally as potent as the one before. It reminded Harry of when he was a child and would buy the large gobstoppers from his corner store for about fifty pence. The first colour and flavour would melt away into the next and the next. The boy’s scent appeared and then faded, each a conflicting juxtaposition of the one prior. 

“So I’m material?” 

Now Harry sounded like the dickhead. He quickly shook his head, fumbling around in his brain to try and find the right words for this situation. He instead ended up looking like a fish, which had just been reeled in off the hook, gasping for air and flopping about. 

“I’m kidding.” The man stated.

“I like it, come on then- let’s get it over with if you’re going to grill me for information.” 

Harry took this as his queue and hit the record button placing his phone slightly closer to the other man’s lips. They were shaped into a smirk. 

“So what happened last night?” 

There was a long pause. It was the slightly uncomfortable kind of pause, which had Harry squirming. The man never took his eyes off Harry’s. 

“That’s too broad a question Curly, you need to think small.” 

Maybe the man was right. Harry started to rethink his means of questioning. 

“Okay, fine… What’s your name?” 

“What’s your favourite band?” 

Harry was taken a little off guard by the sudden change of subject. Wasn’t he the one who was meant to be asking the questions? Maybe the other man was just making fun of him. This sent Harry into a slight internal rage. Harry wasn’t the type to let that show. He simply responded in his passive aggressive manner.

“The Beatles, now what’s your name?” 

The other lad smirked and uttered, “Jude,” with a wiggle of his brow. 

“Like ‘Hey Jude’ by The Beatles?” 

Harry wasn’t about to be fooled with this man’s bullshit. He could feel his blood boiling, but at the same time he almost wanted to laugh. He felt as is they were playing a game of chess, or poker. He would make a move, then the man, self-entitled ‘Jude’, which Harry was almost certain, wasn’t his real name- would make his. 

“The very same. It must be fate. You believe in that Mr Writer? Don’t all creative types?” He jeered. Harry wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of complaining over the fake name.

“I don’t know. Okay so where did we meet? What was your first impression?” 

This was a question that seemed to please ‘Jude’. His blue eyes sparked with a cheeky intrigue. 

“We met at a dance bar on the outskirts of Shinjuku- we’re in Tokyo, you remember that much, right?”

After a second of stunned silence Harry found himself nodding dumbly. After the other lad had mentioned it something clicked in his mind, yes he remembers now. He and Niall had taken advantage of their time off from university to travel, both lads had seen their fair share of Europe and so this was their next stop. Harry was almost certain Niall had been roped in by the concept of blue beer, maid cafés and robot wresting. Harry was just tagging along for the ride. There was something about travel that always sparked something in him. He felt worldly with each new journey. Even taking the short trip from London to Manchester or Leeds would excite him. He loved most of all to write or photograph his journey, even going as far as getting small jobs for magazines or travel blogs to write about his exploits. 

The other lad soon picked up his little story after Harry’s nod. 

“You were sat in the far corner of the room, hunched over that stupid little journal of yours, looking up at the blond lad you strolled in with every now and again. He was popular with the locals, woman had cheep alcohol, so they were in no short supply, but you didn’t seem too interested in any of them- come to think of it you didn’t seem to be interested in anything at all, other than your book. You were sipping a cocktail when some bird came to chat you up- I gathered from your stunned look didn’t speak too much Japanese. You both stuttered through hellos, by the way your Japanese accent is horrible, way to posh.” 

Harry screwed up his nose slightly at the anecdote before rolling his eyes.

“I suppose you can do better?” He raised a brow challengingly. 

The man looked as if he had been waiting for this question. He gave the smug kind of grin, which alerted Harry that he was about to be proven wrong. He then proceeded to rattle off several phrases in Japanese before Harry cut him off, hardly understanding a word of it.

“Alright- I get it, you can do better… a lot better.” 

That cheeky smirk didn’t seem to fall at all, if anything it grew. Something about it seemed familiar, as if he had seen that look before, though his mind couldn’t grasp when. 

“I know you get it, but you see my whole life is mostly a compilation of proving people wrong who say I can’t do one thing or the next. One could say I get off on it- just a little bit.” He wiggled his brow slightly at his statement before he moved back to his former position lying down next to Harry. 

There was a beat of silence where Harry became painfully aware of the shrinking distance between them. There was a small, electric buzz pulsing through every point where their skin was touching. It was odd. Harry had blurred memories of sex the previous night, mumbled moan and rough fingers scraping across vulnerable flesh. Despite the previous night this little electric serge in the smallest of places, like where their knees were touching or the occasion when their forearms would brush, felt more intimate. It was as if Harry’s body were a city, his nerves the lights and this man was the pulsating current, which turned darkness to light. 

“Anyway.” 

Harry spoke up, breaking his own train of thought as he glanced down at his phone, realising only then that he was still recording their conversation. 

“Continue your story- what happened next?” 

“Then- I came over to save you. I spoke to the woman for you, telling her what you wanted to say and you thanked me. I then- very smoothly asked you if I could buy you a drink.”  
Again, there was another pause, which the man filled with a smug grin. Harry found it hard to believe he would even take him up on the offer of a drink, then again, even the sober version of himself was finding a soft spot for him- Jude, if that’s what he wanted to be called. 

“Do you honestly have a proper name?” Harry interrupted watching the boy cock his brow. 

“I have a million names love, you pick one and we’ll stick to it. Oh we could get creative, nicknames maybe. My mum used to call me Boo.” He smirked and Harry chuckled. 

“That is actually way too adorable. I feel like I might just choke on the cheesiness of that name.” 

To this the man replied with an erect middle finger and a disapproving look. 

“May I continue my story?” He quizzed softly and Harry chuckled shaking his head.

“I think I get the gist, you got me drunk and took me to your flat.” 

Jude rolled his eyes, the blue becoming cold for a second before it seemed to regain his composure and uttered,

“For a writer you lack imagination and romance. I could give you that. I could tell you about how at night the lights of Tokyo shine so brightly that they turn even the blackest of nights to day, or how the city is a buzz in colour after dark. I could tell you about how it started to rain, like those shitty romantic film clichés. I told you to run and when you did, you stumble like a baby deer with a broken leg, every turn or gutter would be sure to send you tumbling- don’t believe me? Just check, I’m sure there will be bruises. When we got to my flat we stripped off our clothes and you just stood there for what seemed like fucking hours just staring.” 

The man bit back a chuckle and shook his head. His fingers raked through his hair as he rolled away front Harry as if his walls were crumbling down and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. 

“And then what?” 

Harry filled the silence and moved closer. He was enthralled with the tale the man was spinning. 

“I offered you tea.” He chuckled out and shook his head. 

“Because I couldn’t deal with those eyes of yours. It wasn’t just the fact we were standing in the corridor both totally naked- yet, not touching it was odd- and you were just… staring at me.”

The haze around Harry’s head slightly cleared, just enough for him to see the image of wide blue eyes gazing back at him, and there was something in them Harry couldn’t understand. If he didn’t know better to would have called it fear. Harry remembers how at that moment the air felt thick with tension, as if instead of breathing, he was underwater, sucking air through a straw. There was something about this man’s face. The curve of his lip the slight tilt of his head. It was like a memory was trying to scratch it’s way to the surface and yet his drunken and groggy mind couldn’t quiet grasp it. So he stared, and not in the places he was meant to. He couldn’t take his eyes off the blue pools of the man’s eyes and god- if only he could place his finger on it. He then remembered the lips moving, his voice also sounded like a hazy, far away vibration, as if he were trying to reach him from a landline at the bottom of the ocean- it was impossible. 

“It’s because I know you face… I don’t know how but I know it.” Harry tried to explain as he slowly came to again, remembering that he was in bed with this man and still the fact haunted him. 

“I know. You told me as much when you turned down the tea, that’s when the kissing started and the rest of the story is a little less romantic and most I figure you know.” 

Harry felt a kind of lopsided- goofy grin spread over his face. He sighed quietly and replied with a mumbled,

“Yeah. I know the rest.” 

In that moment he shut off the voice recorded on his phone and started to gather his things, finally finding his clothes. He didn’t even bother asking how his jeans had managed to drape themselves over the porcelain depiction of a waving cat, which sat on a small coffee table at the foot of the bed. 

“What is that thing?” 

Harry mumbled quietly and watched with swollen, wide eyes as the boy climbed from the bed, stark naked and walked over to retrieve Harry’s jeans for him. The sun shining in the from a small gap in the curtain, hit every curve of his sun kissed skin and yes… Harry’s eyes lingered. 

“Your jeans or the maneki-neko?” 

“Second one- obviously.” 

He chuckled softly and threw Harry his jeans before going to the entryway, retrieving his shirt from god knows where then also handing it to Harry. 

“It’s a lucky cat love, and after waking up next to you I’m guessing it can’t be all bullshit.”  
Harry couldn’t exactly argue. This wasn’t something Harry did often- or at all. Okay, he would admit that he had several mornings where he had awoken with a killer hangover, but never- ever, in the bed of another man. This was all new for him. Were they meant to talk? Was he meant to stay for breakfast? Should he even have stayed this long? If it was a one night stand the answer was probably no. Was this a one night stand? 

“I should be leaving.” Harry decided to speak aloud. 

Harry was almost certain he had outstayed his welcome. That and Niall would be looking for him by now. That was if he was awake and functioning by now. Then again Niall knew how to hold his liquored far better than Harry. 

“What if I ask you to stay?” A voice came from the other side of the room as the other man finally decided to retrieve his clothes and begin to dress himself. 

“I should really be going, my flight back to London is first thing tomorrow morning.” 

At this the man paused as if contemplating something, just from the expression on his face it was clear there was some kind of internal debate going on. 

“How long have you been in Tokyo?” He asked offhandedly 

“Almost a week.” 

“And what have you seen?”

Now Harry had the odd feeling that he was in fact the one being interrogated and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. 

“Well with Niall mostly the insides of pubs and clubs… we spent a day in Disneyland. I mean as far as culture goes… not too much.” 

“Well that settles it then, no arguments. If this is your last day in Japan I’ll have to give you the lay of the land, love, you can’t go having seen nothing. What type of adventure is that to write down in those little story books of yours?” 

Harry hadn’t thought of it this way. He fell silent as he thought about this. Yes he would have liked to have something to brag about; some kind of true adventure but Niall was like a toddler when it came to anything that actually interested Harry. It was a constant string of, ‘how much longer’ or ‘can we go home now?’ Maybe, just maybe he would take the boy up on his offer. 

“Maybe I will take you up on your offer- just for a few hours.” 

A smile toyed over his lips and he smirked slightly to himself before uttering,

“I only need a few hours love.”


	2. Part 1 Chapter 2 Je T'aime Moi Non Plus

Harry had never been so utterly in awe of something as simple as a building. He and the mystery man, whose true name Harry still hadn’t managed to decipher, was standing at the entrance of the Sensoji temple. The building looked like something Harry would have seen in a samurai film. It was stained a brilliant shade of red with an array of hand carved images. Within the centre of the temple hung a large red lantern, flanked by two bronzed statues. Harry couldn’t quite decipher if they were meant to be warriors or some type of deity.

The two men had just passed through the bustling shopping street of Nakamise. The man beside him seemed well versed on the culture, traditions and locations of most things, which Harry ‘had to see’. Yet when he spoke, he did so with a fluent Northern English accent. For a second Harry had debated whether or not to ask about it. He then figured that if extracting a name of the man was like pulling teeth, getting a proper answer about his past would be near enough to impossible.

Harry was still chewing on a small, bird-shaped cake called ‘Ningyoyaki’, or that was at least what the other man had told him, as they entered the grounds of the temple. Harry fumbled around in his knapsack for his camera, taking the small cake into his mouth and screwing up his nose as his mouth filled with an odd tasting savoury paste. They defiantly didn’t have that in England- and there was probably a reason. He took longer than most to position his camera, making sure the lighting and framing was just right. All the while the other man just stared, watching the awe, which crossed Harry’s face with a kind of smug satisfaction.

“You should see the look on your face when you do that, writer boy- I’m guessing you’re pretty into photos as well- huh?”

Harry drew his eyes away from the temple for a second to look at the other boy. In that moment he decided that he had been taking a photo of the second most stunning view.

“How could you tell?”

“If you watch people enough, you can tell when they like something, everyone gets this kind of shimmer in their eyes and you- you’re face just-”

In that moment the man lets out something Harry could only describe as a giggle, his hand flying up to cover his mouth while the sides of his eyes crinkled. In this moment he smelt more like flowers than cigarettes, and Harry might just have wished he could revel in that smell for longer than any measurement of time his mind could comprehend.

“I don’t know, you even stick your tongue out a little bit, and you curl your like when you concentrate on… whatever is going on in that head of yours.”

In that moment the man even made an attempt to try and mirror Harry’s facial expression, which caused Harry to let out a chuckle of his own. He went bright red as he did. His laughs normally consisted of a slightly too loud and obnoxious sound that was a mixture between a laugh, a cackle and some sound you might expect to come from a donkey. Harry always hated his laugh, but for a second he saw in the man’s eyes what he had been talking about. There was a spark in his eyes.

Harry quickly went back to snapping photos of the scene then look at the man, tilting his head to one side and shyly gesturing for him to get in the photo. He raised a brow, but did as instructed.

“Shouldn’t you be the one getting the photo taken, I might not be a photographer, but I can manage not to take a totally shitty photo.”

Harry shook his head. That wasn’t the point. He wanted to get his two beautiful things in the one photo. It seemed odd that he would be leaving both behind in the morning. He felt his heart sink and then a confliction of emotions rise. How had he already gotten so connected to this man, this man with no name and no history? He was a total mystery. Harry was starting to question his own character as he snapped the photo.

“Gone digital huh? What happen to the Polaroid?”

Harry’s head snapped up in surprise at that. He remembered when he was younger. In his teenage years he would always take his photos with a Polaroid camera. He used to love the material object and the importance placed on one photo to be perfect. But film for the camera had always been expensive and ever since Paris he couldn’t bring himself to use it.

“You can loose Polaroid photos… But how did you know I used to use a Polaroid camera?”

For a second the man looked like he was taken back, then the wheels in his brain started turning and it became obvious he was making up some excuse. The air of mystery around him seemed to thicken.

“You just strike me as a Polaroid guy, very hipster.”

In that moment Harry seemed to shake his suspicions and quietly lower his camera.

“At one point in time I was but- not so much… plus it’s hard to blog Polaroid photos.”

The man rolled his eyes and extended his hand for Harry to hold.

“Told you, your ‘blog’- very hipster.”

Harry looked at the outstretched hand with a hint of hesitation then turned, looking around to see if anyone else was watching. He had no clue what the man before him was like or what they were even meant to be. They weren’t a one-night stand, nor could they be a couple or even friends. They were in a constant state of limbo in the grey area between all three.

“Are we even allowed to hold hands in a temple?”

Harry mumbled and the other man shrugged, leading him into a small area where incense was alight as several statues stood, eyes locked intently on the two. The eyes seemed to follow Harry. It reminded him of the statues outside of Notre Dame, another time with another boy. Harry shook the thoughts off and looked around the room. There was an elderly man kneeling on a small knee rug, laid out over the floor as well as several tourists who were placing money into a coin collector.

“Hey- as far as I know Buddha didn’t care.”

He then let Harry’s hand drop ushering for him to follow him as he kneeled down on the rug. Harry soon followed suit watching the man with slightly wide eyes as he clapped his hands together and chanted something softly.

“Aren’t you going to get into trouble for being so loud?” Harry mumbled as his green eyes swelled and the other man again just smirked, unconcerned.

“You’re meant to be loud- that’s how you get… whoever you're praying to, to pay attention. Don’t you want to be heard?” He asked and flicked the small cross, which hung around Harry’s neck. He looked down at it before giving a weak shake of his head.

“I don’t think my god would like me very much even if I was heard.”

The other man held Harry’s gaze for a moment before he placed a few yen into the collection for both Harry and himself before leading Harry back to the exit.

“Well that’s a bit of a downer.” He noted.

There was an air about this man, which always seemed to be overly happy, though every now and again Harry could see through the cracks. Harry had shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, which he had found on the floor upon exiting the other man’s apartment. He looked around the grounds of the temple again.

“Do you want me to read you a fortune?” The other man chirped lightly and slid his hands in his pocket, pulling out a few more yen and placed them in another collector. He then handed Harry some kind of large wooden object. His furrowed brow indicated that he had no idea what to do next.

“You just have to shake it, pull out a stick that will have a character on it, then go find the little draw with the same character and pull out a fortune.”

Harry nodded and followed the instructions easily enough, seeing that under the Japanese explanation they had also inscribed an English one. The man came up from behind him and raised a brow.

“How did you go?” He asked curiously.

“Once I got one that told me I would ‘find a great love with many cats’. I don’t know if the great love was with the person or the ‘many cats’. So it was kind of depressing.”

Harry found himself letting out another chuckle at that, glancing over his shoulder he met the other man’s eyes and only then realised his hand had also found its way to Harry’s hip.

“Your wishes shall be realised, but your love will be plagued with troubles.”

Harry reads aloud with small scowl. The other man saw the odd drop on Harry’s face and snatched up the fortune tying it with many others onto one of the trees near the temple.

“You get rid of the shit ones here. Still not as shit as saying I’m going to find my one true love in having twenty cats.” He smirked.

This managed to snake a smile from Harry’s lips as he started walking with the man. Soon they were out of the temple and back amongst the towering skyscrapers of Tokyo city.

“Where to now, Mr Adventure Guide?” Harry quipped catching the other man smiling.

“Now time for lunch at…”

He had then pulled out his phone to check the time and chuckled.

“Four in the afternoon.”

***

  
“You’re kidding me.”

A voice sounded from beside Harry. He had to hold in a chuckle as he glanced over to his self-entitled adventure guide. They were standing outside of a narrow building, a small elevator before them. Each floor had the name of a different enterprise written on it, ranging from a sushi restaurant, an insurance planner, a massage parlour and lastly something they called a cat café.

“No I want to go, please- plus you might find your one true love. The fortune said so.”

The man beside him paused, shooting Harry an eye roll. He shifted from one foot to the next contemplating whether or not to say yes. Harry faked a pleading look, jutting out his lower lip and widening his eyes. This caused the other lad to laugh and roll his eyes again.

“Alright young Harold, if you insist we will go to the sodding cat café.”

Harry beamed and chuckled to himself as he pushed its allocated number on the elevator. He felt the flimsy metal machine quiver to life before slowly beginning to ascend.

“First of all, it’s Harry. Just Harry. Secondly, I’m not that young- how old are you?”

Harry asked this without even thinking, it just rolled off his tongue. He forgot whom he was talking to, this boy who held all manner of personal information tightly to his chest and away from Harry’s own prying eyes.

“Older than you.” He replied simply.

“Why do you feel the need to ask me all these questions? Have I asked you anything?” He quipped.

That was when Harry froze, coming to that realisation. How did the man even know his name if he had never asked? Maybe in the blurry night prior Harry had given him that information. Somehow he must have also told his age since the man seemed adamant he was older. Harry still felt as if someone had poured cold water down his back, all ridged and confused.

He opened his mouth to confront the man with another onslaught of questions when the elevator jolted to a stop, the doors sliding open to reveal a small pastel pink coloured room, filled with small high-tea sets and cats. Some were lounging about on the window seat in the room while others were sleeping in their own cat beds or running about, probably trying to avoid most of the clientele. There was a small child chasing about a tabby cat while the parents watched disapprovingly. It was enough to bring a small smile to Harry’s face and momentarily thaw his body from the freeze of unanswered questions.

The other man gently tugged Harry from the elevator and into the café. He spoke to the owner softly, his lips moving quickly; filled with words Harry didn’t understand. He was then ushered inside, handed a menu and a small book, which detailed odds and ends of each cats', ‘personality’. Harry raised a brow and found himself giggling slightly.

“Are we petting the cats or dating them because so far Button seems like the best option. I mean… ‘Likes to snuggle, playful, enjoying staring out windows and eating biscuits’- it seems like the perfect date to me.”

The other man chuckled softly sitting down at the window seat, watching as several ginger cats bolted over his lap trying as they may to get out of Louis’s way while a plump, grey Persian cat just looked at him with the air of irritation.

“Well, it looks like we’ve found her.” He smirked ruffling the cat’s fur as Harry leaned over to do the same, simply ordering some tea and something small to eat when ask by the elderly lady caring for the place.

“Is this how you’d imagine your day going?” Harry had asked, looking up from the cat that seemed to be greatly enjoying her newfound company.

“Honestly? Not in a million years. My money had been on you sneaking out the window before I even woke up.” Harry let out a snicker.

“Well, if I remember rightly you live on the fourth floor, so I think I would struggle slightly to climb out the window.”

“Amateur move there, young Harold. You obviously have not been schooled in the art of a one night stand.”

There was a moment where Harry’s smile dropped before he regained control and contorted it back into something, which would be considered a ‘normal’ reaction. His smile looked more like a grimace. It was obvious the other man was skilled in ‘that art of a one night stand’. Harry didn’t know why there was suddenly a pang of jealousy welling in his chest. He didn’t respond which seemed to be a red flag for the other lad so a quick change of subject was made.

“What about you, was this how you thought you would spend the day?”

“Never in a million years. After last night I’d probably guess I would be spending today in a hotel room, helping nurse Niall’s hangover while he told me about- whatever the heck he did last night. I get some pretty amazing story ideas out him actually.”

This seemed to intrigue the boy slightly.

“Will you allow me to psychoanalyse you, young Harold? And if the answer is no I’m going to do it anyway because as a fairly impartial means of judgment I’ve gotta say, for someone who loves adventures and amazing stories you just seem to live vicariously through the people around you…”

The man then paused as their tea and food arrived. This caused several other felines to begin scampering over, even causing Button to stand and begin to nudge at Harry’s leg for his food. Harry had scoffed at first, listening to the man’s statement. He couldn’t believe someone had just called him out like that. They had just gone from casual conversation to this. They were strangers for god sake. Despite how close Harry felt to this man in that moment it hit him that they were strangers, it didn’t matter if they had sex or that he had stayed the night and the day after. They knew little to nothing about each other, and now the man practically accused him of being boring- among other things. This definitely wasn’t how he had thought the day would go.

“That’s total bullshit. I do exciting things on my own.”

“Like what?” Was his quick-witted reply and again Harry felt as if they were playing chess.

“I travel. I sleep with strangers, apparently. I help my best mate out of all kinds of situations. You wouldn’t believe if I told you half the things he does. There was a time where Niall threw a house party and invited the whole of sixth form to his uncle’s property and I had to bail him out of the police station after got so drunk he rode one of the horses, naked through from the property to the main street of town.”

The other man seemed entertained by the story. A small smile had shaped it’s was onto his face and the wrinkles by his eyes were beginning to show. He then pulled himself together, face falling back into a somewhat smug mask.

“But that’s Niall’s story Harry, not yours. You are playing a supporting role in your own goddamn life. Niall takes you on adventures. I take you on adventures. Maybe it’s time you started to take your own risks, instead of being too afraid to make a mistake.”

Harry just jeered at this statement, suddenly feeling slightly vulnerable. It was as if someone had just pointed out his hamartia, placed the mirror up so Harry could see himself as everyone else did and again he felt a cold surge of energy run down his spine. He stood without meaning to, as if he were walking on autopilot.

“I should probably-”

The other man’s hand was now holding his wrist as if begging for him to stay. Harry sucked in a breath of air and whispered,

“Well- you’re running from someone- or something, I don’t know. You don’t look like you let anyone get close to you at all. You come across as heartless, but I can see you’re not. You won’t tell me anything about yourself yet you keep begging me to stay, it’s like you crave affection, but push it away when you get it.” Harry spoke, surprised at how calm he had managed to keep his voice.

“Stick around and I just might surprise you.” The man uttered calmly, standing up and ushering for Harry to follow him.

“I still have one last thing to show you.”


	3. Part 1 Chapter 3 10 am Gare du Nord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is inspired by the song 10 am Gare du Nord- Keaton Henson

Harry stood staring at the large image framed before him. He looked at the man beside him and then saw something. It was this kind of wild spark, just behind his eyes. Harry couldn’t help but feel his breath catch because the man had been right- there was something special about watching someone look at something they loved. He felt nostalgia settle in but couldn’t place his finger on what caused it.

“Why did you bring me here?” Harry asked his breath hushed. He felt if he raised it above a whisper he would be hushed or judged by the numerous local art critics around them.

“I like it here.” The man whispered, his eyes never moved from the painting. His facial features seemed a hundred miles away, as if he were looking at another life.

“You wanted to know about me, this is a part of me.”

Harry looked back to the painting trying to see what this man saw. He couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, glaring at each line a brush stroke, he didn’t understand why the other man was so in love with this ink and paint smeared on canvas. It was pretty- yes, but that’s all Harry could see, a pretty wall ornament.

“So you like art?” Harry whispered faintly and the other man smiled,

“Maybe in another life. I don’t see it the way I used to.”

The air hung potent with a kind of saturated, sad silence. Harry looked to the painting and whispered,

“I knew this guy- or… Kind of knew a guy. It’s complicated, but he loved art and I remember he once told me art wasn’t for being locked away in stuffy museums for old men to critique and gawk at. Art was meant to be thrust in people’s faces where everyone could see and everyone had a view of its meaning.”

The man smiled as he took a step back away from the canvas and moved onto the next. The scene was something, which looked as if it had fallen from the pages of a Greek or Roman epic, slightly reminding him of a more artistic version of ‘300’. This one, Harry wasn’t sure he would call pretty. It was gruesome and yet painted brilliantly. The time and effort was something beyond Harry’s comprehension. He then realised in that moment the man was twiddling his thumbs slightly, fiddling with his fingers, an impatient habit.

“He sounds like a smart guy, maybe I should meet him sometime.”

He moved on to the next room in the gallery, his hand silently searching back to grab Harry’s. Again this surprised him. He wasn’t even sure if the man was conscious of his own actions, still he took his hand happily and ran his fingers over the boy’s exposed palm. For a moment they said nothing, they just stood and stared at the image before them.

“What was he like? This guy you ‘kind of’ knew?”

“He was sweet… It’s kind of hard for me to really know what he was like. We only met for a short while, back when I was a teenager. I don’t even really know what he looked like. But… he just had this kind of air to him, you know? Like- I don’t know. I don’t think I’m the kind of guy who believes in all that ‘fate’ bullshit but even though from what I knew of him we didn’t have too much in common it was like we had complimenting personalities or something. It was like we were bound to meet in the long run.”

Again there was a moment of silence and at first Harry was questioning if the man had even heard his statement at all. That was when he replied, all the while his fingers twitched slightly around Harry’s hand, the grip growing tighter.

“Yeah? What was his name?”

“Louis.”

Then the man dropped Harry’s hand and started walking to the exit of the gallery. At first Harry was almost afraid he had done something wrong. He was quick to follow the man, feeling worry build in his chest. God, he didn’t understand a second of the emotions he was feeling today. He was unsure if he was on a rollercoaster, with all the crazy ups and down or if he was simply on a ride that spun, like a high-speed merry-go-round, leaving him dazed and confused.

“It’s getting late, I feel like if I don’t get you home soon you’ll never have time to pack, and that friend of yours is sure to be calling the police any second.”

Again Harry felt whiplash, though pretended to understand what was going on. He knew Niall wouldn’t freak out. Never in his life had he seen Niall freak out and he had known the Irish lad since he transferred into Harry’s class in grade six. They went back a long ways. If he knew Niall at all he was probably sitting in the hotel watching a film and likely messaging Liam about his newest escapades since he always had to tell someone, and if Harry weren’t there Liam would be the next best thing.

Harry was soon rushed off his feet trying to keep up with the man, through the now darkened streets as the last of the commuters and the first of the late night partygoers were surging through the streets. He felt his grip finding the back of the man’s shirt and was even more surprised when he slowed.

  
***

Once stumbling upon the train station Harry and the other man quietly examined the train lines. Harry spent a whole ten minutes sorting through his satchel as he tried to find his hotel business card. He found it eventually tucked behind some pages in his journal. He gave it to the man to examine then watched as he nodded slightly with recognition, walking over and ordering a ticket. Harry was unsure why he found himself so surprised as the man came back with only one ticket in hand.

“You aren’t coming with me?” Harry wondered aloud, though he could already see before finishing his sentence that the man was shaking his head.

“You’re going north, I’m going south. I guess this is where we will have to part ways Curly. Unless you have some time before your flight for me to bid you adieu and retire from my position as adventure guide extraordinaire to the budding stars.”

The boy seemed to overact his last words, stretching out his hands in a comical fashion as if some kind of flashing neon sign lay before him. Despite smiling Harry could feel a lump growing in his throat, building with every intake of breath.

“I don’t think there will be time for goodbyes, we flight out at ten a.m. and you’ve got to be there at least two hours beforehand… Is it odd if I say I’m going to miss you?”

Harry asked quietly then looked down where is hand and managed to interlace with the material at the man’s sleeve. Now he felt like the pathetic one, what had he expected after all of this? At the end of the day what Harry and this man had was never built to last. He felt a pang in his chest, but shook it off, quietly cursing himself for being so attached.

“Not really love... I think I might just miss you too, just a little.” The man replied before adding on,

“I guess I was just bound to be another Louis huh?”

Harry felt his vision begin to blur and almost wanted to slap himself. He felt like an idiot for crying over a man he never knew, nor would ever really know. They had a day- that was all they would ever have.

“I guess so- yeah.”

“At least we packet a whole year's worth of a relationship into less than twenty-four hours… I mean we’ve had sex, gone on a date, had twenty cats, fought, and visited an art gallery.”

Again Harry laughed, only to be interrupted by a voice over the loud speakers calling once in Japanese and they again in English telling all passengers going north on the Namboku line to board the train.

“I guess that’s me.” Harry breathed out, gazing down at his ticket.

To his own surprise he was being pulled into an almost backbreaking hug. Harry was slightly wide eyed as he realised the smaller man had tucked himself into Harry’s body, seeming to fit perfectly. His head was pressed against Harry’s chest and at that moment Harry couldn’t think. His heart was thudding so loudly it echoed in his own ears. He was well aware that the other man could probably also feel it. Harry then leaned down into the hug, his fingertips gripping the fabric at the back of his shirt, he took in one last deep breath, willing himself to remember this moment, his smell, his touch and hoped to keep it to reflect back on whenever he thought of the man. He could already tell it was going to be frequent.

“I’ll miss you a lot.” Harry heard the boy whisper, hearing it as no more that a whisper before the man let him go. The train doors, flashing in warning as any second they were about to slide shut.

“Now go.”

He shoved Harry and with his mouth agape Harry stumbled like a lost drunk back into the carriage. He pulled himself in just in time for the doors to shut and the train to bolt forward, sending him swaying and almost tumbling into the people around him.

After about two stops the flow of people began to die down and Harry managed to find himself a seat without feeling guilty, worrying that some old man or pregnant woman would have to stand, there were still a handful of seats available if needed, so his conscience was clear in that regard.

For the first time all day he had time to just sit back and let the events of the day play before his mind, kind of like watching a patchy cinematic film. He tried to sort through the blur and rush of emotions, asking himself what he thought now of everything which had taken place. It was then Harry realised he had spoken about Louis to this man. He had never talked about Louis to anyone since it happened, in a way he thought of it as his own odd infatuation, his dirty little secret because with as many people as he had been within the time since Louis, none had compared at all to him, except- maybe this man. After all, somehow Harry had felt comfortable enough to talk about Louis, or at least mention him before this man. It was beyond odd.

Maybe he would feel better if he talked through it with Niall. He looked out the window, seeing that now there was no sun in sight, just the black darkness, shattered by yellowing, city light.

Harry reached into his back pocket to attempt to find his phone and check the time when he froze, as his fingers brushed nothing but fabric. He was now frantically reaching for his satchel, trying to see if he had left it there. After emptying the content onto the train floor he paled realising it wasn’t there either. He tried the other pocket and furrowed his brow as he heard the familiar crumpling of paper. He quietly guessed it would be some kind of receipt, but instead he found a folded note scrawled on paper Harry knew to be from his journal.

Sorry love, it had to be done. xx L.T.

The note read and for a second Harry was so astounded he couldn’t find his words. Someone had taken his phone, but that wasn’t even in the top five weird things that happened to him that day and what did ‘it had to be done’ mean? The next question was also hanging over Harry’s head.

Who was ‘L.T?’

  
  
***

By the time Harry reached the hotel room he and Niall shared he was miserable. His mind couldn’t fathom all the events, which had taken place that day. He felt as if he already had jet lag before flying and had no clue how he would deal with the behemoth journey back home.

Upon entering the room Harry was hit with a wall of crisp fumes and axe deodorant, letting him know Niall was in. The blond lad was lounging on his single bed, mindlessly watching the television. Harry watched the screen in silence for a moment as he watches something that appeared to be in Japanese, there was many gruesome, and ranging from somewhat to very unrealistic deaths unfolding before his eyes. Harry then cleared his throat and sat down on the end of the bed, now gaining Niall’s attention.

“Another horror film Ni- Really?”

“Hey, Haz. Not a horror film this time- I’m pretty sure I’ve watched every horror film known to man, this is a thriller where these school kids have to kill their classmates to get off an island, it’s pretty sick-” He paused whatever he had been watching and sat up slightly.

“I was starting to wonder where you go off to. You almost had me worried mate, I mean I came home around eleven this morning and you weren’t here. I thought you must have been looking for me, or got mugged. I was even venturing into the idea that someone stole your organs and were selling them on the black market.”

Harry gave out a forced laugh at Niall’s last comment, though he didn’t particularly feel like laughing. He felt as if he might actually want to cry.

“I kind of did get mugged actually, along with a compilation of other things.”

This turned Niall’s joking mannerisms into something slightly more serious. His eyes widened and he looked Harry over as if he was searching for any physical evidence of this.

“Don’t you want to tell me how your night was, you always seem to want to do that.”

Harry mumbled, looking over at Niall because even though Harry knew he needed to get everything off his chest, find someone else to bear the weight of this day with him, he also didn’t know if he could tell Niall about everything that had happened without having a total breakdown.

“Something tells me your story is a little more important today. How traumatic is it? Should I crack open the beer while we’re ahead?”

Harry placed his face in his hands and shook his head. In the end that’s what got Harry into this mess, wasn’t it? If he didn’t drink he would have gone home with the man.

“After last night I’m never ever drinking again.”

There was a flash of sympathy behind Niall’s eyes. He nodded slightly and leaned back against his headrest, ushering for Harry to come up and sit with him.

“Okay, well come on then. I’m all ears.”

It was in that moment that Harry started from the beginning, spilling out all of his troubles while for once in his life Niall listened silently. He hardly ever interrupted Harry at all except to ask him to clarify something. It was utterly amazing to see Niall so still. Normally he was like a toddler after too much sugar, but in that moment he sat as if bolted in place opposed to Harry who was practically shaking once he finished.

“And I don’t even know who the fuck this L.T person is or why they had to take my phone.”

“Oh Haz.”

Niall stated as he took a deep breath and shifted his position so he could get a better look at Harry. He looked as if he were about to deliver some horrible news, which Harry wasn’t sure he could deal with right now.

“It’s obvious who it is. I can’t say why… but you did say the random stalker you spent the day with hugged you, really uncharacteristically just before you got on the train, right? He’s gotta be L.T Harry.”

Of course Harry had entertained this idea for a long while on the ride back, but Harry had never let himself admit it, always finding another excuse to believe it wasn’t him. He always wanted to see the best in people. He had to believe there were still lots of good people out there in the world and maybe that was another one of his great flaws. More and more seemed to be appearing today, like cracks in the ceiling of a dilapidating house.

Why would he have to take his phone? What use did it have to him? What did he even have of this L.T. on his phone? That’s when it hit him.

Harry had recorded L as he awoke, that was their first real conversation and now it was gone, along with Harry’s phone. But why? Why did he have to take it? Did he want to remain that much of a mystery he had to take every shred of himself with him as he left Harry? That was when Harry’s eyes widened and he near dived to his camera, quickly clicking through all the photos he had taken that day.

There was something wrong. One was missing and Harry knew exactly which one. The one Harry had taken of the man beside the temple.

“You could track the guy you know? I mean, how many people can live in Tokyo with the entails L.T. and have a Northern English accent? Plus you know where he lives-”

Harry had only then tuned into the fact that Niall was talking to him, though was aware he had likely been going for some time without Harry realising, now he was too caught up in his own head.

“You could probably even guess a name. I mean… maybe he said it and you just forgot, since you said you were drunk as hell last night. I could say some names and see if they ring a bell. Let’s see… L-Luke, Liam, Logan, Lee, Leon… Lance, Lucius, Lewis… come on Harry I’m running out of ideas here. Are you even listening?”

One name seemed to snap Harry’s head up and he could hear a voice reach him, which he had almost thought he had forgotten, burred under years of memories.

‘It’s not Lewis it’s Louis.’

Harry froze. The man had acted so strangely as soon as Harry started speaking about Louis but it couldn’t be. It was impossible.

“Louis- It’s Louis.”

End of Part 1  
Tokyo.

**Author's Note:**

> Gazing at them,  
> These blossoms have grown  
> So much a part of me,  
> To part with them when they fall  
> Seems bitter indeed!  
> Untitled Saigyō  
> (西行法師)


End file.
